The first time we met, we shook hands.
Hands. Something one never gives much thought to, until that moment when a parent shakes yours.
Your hands are the…
Hands that save lives;
Hands that perform the work of miracles;
Hands that don’t shake or falter;
Hands that carry the strength and weight of the world;
Hands that never tire;
Hands that are steady and measured;
Hands that have comforted families in time of desperate need;
Hands whose job is never done;
Hands that saved my child’s life.
Before I knew you, I lived in blissful ignorance enveloped in the small problems of life that one has without perspective, pretending you didn’t exist. But you do exist, and because of you, I’m able to spend precious moments with my child that otherwise would be lost.
You’ve made my family whole, even when my child’s heart is not.